


Why Don't You Do Right.

by simplifiedbaby



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky's dad's a dick, Canonical Character Death, I swear this is happy, Internalized Homophobia, Italian Mafia, M/M, Mentions of Prostitution, Minor Character Death, Mutual Pining, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Top Bucky Barnes, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-09 00:14:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7779121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplifiedbaby/pseuds/simplifiedbaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky leaves for two years and comes back with blood on his hands. Steve's way in over his head. <br/>They're in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dream A Little Dream.

He remembers how his lungs stung as he ran home, how tears blurred his vision. The sudden appearance of Bucky’s father in the doorway and the horrified look on his face had the two of them pulling apart and turning ghost white. If not for Bucky intercepting the attack, Steve was sure the older Barnes would have killed him in a blind rage. Steve ran, he didn’t know what else to do. 

That night, Bucky snuck into Steve’s room but wouldn’t even look at him, in the dim light he noticed the deep bruises encompassing the other’s throat and circling around his eyes. He noted the tinny scent that the figure before him gave off. Crawling towards the brunet to reach out, to comfort, a hand quickly swatted the hand, rejecting contact. Jerking defensively, he set his jaw before looking at Steve with heartbreak and anger in his eyes for what seemed like an overwhelming eternity.

“I..I’m leaving.” 

The words were caught then forcibly hissed out and Steve's blood ran cold as they cut through the thick air. Before he could even respond Bucky was slipping  back out through the window, Steve chasing after him quickly, grabbing weakly for his wrist. Whispering out, knowing if he spoke too loud his voice would catch and claw in his throat .

“Bucky..please..don’t..don’t go please..please..” 

He pleaded and his heart thrummed in his ears as Bucky stared at him with such a sad and broken look that Steve couldn’t stop from letting a sob slip through his lips. In the end Bucky pulled his arm out from Steve grip, staring for a moment as if to burn the memory into his brain. He ran off. This tore Steve’s world apart, it was devastating watching as Bucky’s silhouette was soon blurred and obscured out of view.

He was 15. 

-

**1936**

The shutters opened with a rattle, and Steve bit back a yawn his, eyes watering in protest. Looking out the big window blearily, the sun beamed into the little shop soaking into every corner. Steve’s hands rubbed at his face in an attempt to eradicate himself from sleepiness. His movements were stiff and sluggish as he unlocked the door propping it open and stepping out to breath in the morning air. Smacking his lips together a few times he interlocked his fingers and held his arms out in front of his small frame, cracking his knuckles and stretching out his shoulders. As his joints popped he let out a soft sigh before shuffling back inside. He began setting up the displays in the widow. Vibrant splashes of color and the smell of earth and flora filled his senses, easing out any discomfort.

Tucking an empty clay pot in his elbow he stepped back to admire his  handiwork with a secretive swell of pride. He caught sight of a figure that loomed outside, a pricy looking hat tipped down just enough to shadow his face. Steve’s eyes narrowed as he turned his back to the man. 

There was the sound of expensive shoes tapping on the hardwood of the dinky flower shop and Steve managed to make it behind the counter. Setting the pot down gingerly on one of the shelves beneath the countertop, his fingers curling around a baseball bat under the register.  He knew these types, well dressed but dangerous, it was rumored that the owner of the shop had ties with the mafia, and Steve wouldn’t be surprised with the amount of suits that came in and sauntered their way to the back room much to the owner’s chagrin. 

“Are you looking for something in particular?” 

Steve gave a tight lipped smile as he looked up. In that moment, his breath caught in his throat and his heart stuttered. The man..no.. Bucky was leaning directly on the countertop his attention on a greeting card he held in between his his fingers, his lips pursed in means of scrutiny. He smelled a heavy scent of cologne, not enough to be overwhelming, just enough. 

“I need a bouquet..” 

The words hit Steve with booming clarity as if the angels parted the clouds and blew their holy trumpets right against Steve’s ears . Light steel eyes flicked up to Steve’s face then back to the card between his fingers before slowly raking their back up bulging out just a bit. 

“Steve?” 

The name came out strangled and tight as if Bucky had just been punched in the gut. He pushed himself off the counter with a bemused expression, just staring at Steve. Pinching his hat off his head he pressed it to his chest giving a smile, lips working out words that Steve wasn’t hearing. 

“Where’d you go?”

The smile faltered and Bucky’s face went dark, his jaw tightening, eyes cast down to the floor, practically burning holes into the wood. 

“I was just asking because my mom was worried! You suddenly stopped coming around for dinner, and..and yeah.” 

He sputtered out quickly, trying to play off his humiliation. Bucky rolled his shoulders and a smile spread across his face. 

“I was visiting my uncle.” 

Bucky stated placidly, placing his hat back on his head.

Visiting his uncle for two years? _As if_. Though Steve wasn’t going to comment. Clearing his throat he stood upright. 

“You said you needed a bouquet? We have plenty of flowers to choose from.” 

He stepped out from behind the counter. 

“Anything you’re looking for in particular?” 

“Ah, red roses?” 

Bucky fidgeted and rubbed the back of his neck nervously looking around the room, face flushing. Steve couldn’t help but be confused, Ah maybe he’s got a sweetheart. Putting on a fake smile he walked past Bucky nudging him gently. 

“You got a sweetheart?” 

He pluck a few roses from the display looking over them, smelling them before looking up at Bucky expectantly. 

“Um no, no. Friend of mine just got outta the hospital..he’s a bit,” 

He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. 

“..Over the top?”

He finished and Steve snickered lightly as he filtered through the flowers. Once he had a dozen he carefully took them back to his workbench. With careful fingers he slowly cut at the thorns, fighting the urge to just stare amazed at Bucky. 

“Uh how’s your ma?” 

A cold shot ran up his spine and he set his hands on the bench. 

“She’s uh..she’s good, been a little under the weather but, I’m sure she’ll pull through.” 

He slowly brought his head up to look at Bucky, smiling assuredly, though it was not in the least convincing. Bucky looked concerned, truly and genuinely concerned, he began to open his mouth to speak, but Steve quickly cut him off. 

“Uh, are you gonna be in town for long? I’m sure my ma would be more than happy to dote on you.” 

Looking back down at the roses he continued to snip gently at the thorns, setting the small pliers to the side before arranging the bouquet. 

“I’ll be in town for a while. I wouldn’t mind swinging by sometime.” 

“Well, when I’m not here I’m usually there.” 

Wrapping the flowers at the stem with ribbon and light paper, he grabs for a little card and pen. 

“Anything you want it to say? Get well soon?” 

“Yeah, yeah that’ll do.” 

With swift movements, Steve guided the pen over the paper elegantly ignoring the eyes on his hands and the burning of his ears. 

“How about tomorrow? We can..catch up?” 

Setting the pen down, he sticks the small cream card in with the flowers before handing the arrangement to Bucky. 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” 

Bucky began digging into his pocket but Steve just shook his head smiling. 

“It’s on me.”

“Right..” 

Bucky hesitantly took the flower, handling them with such care it almost broke Steve’s heart. He smiled back albeit sheepish and awkward, slowly he backed out of the tiny shop.It almost felt as if Bucky staring straight into his very core. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, your place, around 7?” 

Steve just nodded and Bucky nodded in return, clearing his throat before exiting. As soon as Bucky was out of sight Steve finally exhaled a heavy breath he didn’t know he was holding, his heart rammed in his chest beating loudly in his ears. Steve was floored as he leaned back against the countertop to keep himself from falling over. Scrunching his nose and pinching his arm hard enough to bruise he concluded this was in fact not a dream. He could’ve gotten on his knees and screamed praises to the high heavens, thanking all the angels and saints and God himself. Though that would be just a tad distasteful so Steve relinquished the thought.

Smoothing his hands over his pant legs to dry up some of the moisture he took a few shaky steps before he was behind the counter. Leaning down to rest his forehead on the smooth pine scented surface, he smiled big and wide and beautiful. Like the sunshine just shone through the clouds after a storm, glazing everything in warmth and honey. He laughed because God, it was like he was 15 all over again, getting sweet talked by Bucky quietly as they laid together under the covers. Bucky lips pressed so close to Steve’s ear it tickled and made him laugh breathlessly.

It was just like that feeling except it wasn’t, because now things were different, there would be no sweet pillow talk only shared experiences and formality. Just like that it’s as if the dark clouds rolled back in covering the beam of warmth, turning the world cold and dark once again. Steve knocked his forehead against the countertop a few times before pushing himself up with an internal groan. A woman who was now in the shop with him looked at him like he was crazy, and his ears burned as he gave a sheepish wave and smile. 


	2. As Time Goes By.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the kudos and sweet comments!!  
> I will try to stay on a consistent track when it comes to updates, but I started classes today so :^)

**1927**

His father’s clothes sometimes smelled too strongly of smoke and jasmine for a man of his payroll. The biggest red flag was this, this was the polar opposite of the regular stench of liquor and sweat that clung to the man.

Though once Rebecca was born, the sweet smell of expensive cigars and perfumes began overruling the sour smell of cheap whisky and over worn clothes. Another thing that was different were the beatings, prior to Rebecca’s birth they would be frequent and would often leave Bucky out of sorts for a week.

They began to occur less and the aftermath was reduced to usually a split lip and bruises that lasted days at best, and Bucky wasn’t sure if he were to be relieved or angry. Why stop this now?

As the clothes got nicer his poor ma got more and more worried.

He would speak to her in a soothing voice after he found her alone in the sitting room sobbing. He spent many nights consoling his mother and taking her to bed, he spent many days watching over Rebecca. He didn’t understand why his life felt just so gray and harsh, like the lines of everything were bold and rough.

Bucky was ten when light  and feeling reentered his life. It came in the form of a scrappy looking kid, nine years old and smaller than most kids on the block. Blood dried to his upper lip in a streak that began at his nose,  and cornflower blue eyes that shot daggers at Bucky. The blond was standing there leaning against the door to the butcher’s with a frozen hunk of meat pressed tentatively to his eye.

“What are you lookin' at?”

He spoke in such away that it threw Bucky off, it sent his whole world spinning and as he stared in awe at the vivid colors of the kid’s eyes and bruises and blood, the colors seemed to bloom around him. Bucky wasn’t sure why his heart hurt like it did or why his chest felt so tight, but he let the color soak into his bones and make home there.

“Just some punk.”  

His nose crumpled  and he jutted out his chin as he spoke, walking right past the tiny frame, biting back a smile when he heard a sputter and the sound of feet following behind him. There was a tap on his shoulder and Bucky spun around on his heel to see bright red cheeks and a pout so ridiculous he couldn’t stop the laughed that bubbled up.

“Why are you pouting?”

He spoke through laughs holding his stomach, the redness spread to the blond’s ears in such a lovely way Bucky couldn’t help but stop his fit of laughter, wiping his eyes as though he cried.

“Why are you such a jerk?”

A small foot stamped down on the floor and Bucky went to speak but his mouth just opened and closed in surprise. 

“You look like a fish.”

The other spoke while crossing his arms, an eyebrow raising, waiting for a response. Bucky felt a heat rise to his cheeks.

“Do not!"

Bucky lips pursed and he stood there, his normal snark and confidence nowhere to be found. Who knew there’d come a day that James Buchanan Barnes would have nothing to say?

-

**1932**

“You know,”

He began before he wiped at the grime and sweat on his face with his shirt.

“you shouldn’t keep comin' down here, the smoke’ll kill ya.”

They walked down the side of the road, Bucky’s eyes now fixated on their long cast shadows and the warm light that they bathed in. Steve bumped against him as they walked and the warm glow of the sun didn’t even begin to compare to the heat that spread across Bucky’s skin.

“I know, I know, everyone down by the docks smoke like chimneys. I get it. Ma always tells me before I leave, don’t need you nagging me either.”

Steve let out a harrumph and waved dismissively at Bucky.

“Besides it’s not like I can let you walk home by yourself. Who knows the amount of trouble you’d be in if I weren’t here?”

Bucky snorts out a laugh and bumps into Steve again.

“Probably a helluva a lot less.”

Steve leaned into Bucky’s side, dark eyelashes casting delicate shadows over the tips of his cheeks. Perfect lips curled in a gentle smile and skin so milky a dame could never compare. Beautiful was the only word that flashed in his mind, and it was as if the word was a shock of bright white and a loud boom. With his mouth suddenly dry Bucky licked at his lips, and swallowed thickly, he’s suddenly desperate to taste those lips. He draws away from the warmth and touch as though it burnt him. With his smile now faltering  Steve looked up questioningly at Bucky, and Bucky’s mind was absolutely reeling. What was this feeling, why does he feels damn inclined to something so stupid? Looking around quickly and carefully, he pulled Steve easily by the arm into an alley. He swallowed hard again as he pushed the small frame of Steve’s body against the wall, carefully and gently. His heartbeat hammered in his ears as Steve looked up at him expectantly, opening his mouth to speak but quickly being cut off by Bucky’s lips.

It was the worst kiss imaginable.

All teeth and gum and spit, the clumsiest nips and bumping noses. There was nothing but pure devotion to the other’s mouth as they stood in that alley kissing until the sun had dipped under the horizon. But Bucky didn’t need the sun to feel warmth, he didn’t need the sun for light.

-

**1936**

Bucky was both walking on air and falling so fast to the Earth he didn’t know what to do. It had been _two years_ since he last saw Steve’s face. The expression of absolute heartbreak and the booming sound of the world collapsing around him burned into his memory. He was already two blocks away and his heart had just started to to stop stuttering. Looking down at his hand at the mass of deep red he licked his lips. Unbelievable, to intentionally ignore someone and fucking run into them because you need flowers for a man who treated you like shit for years. There’s only one person to thank for this freak encounter and it’s the big bad man himself, Bucky’s dad.

The great and almighty George Barnes.

Lost deep in thought his feet carried him all the way to a small headstone with words engraved into it.

Bucky hadn’t realize that as soon as you die everything bad you did in your life was no longer a problem and you were seen as a saint by all. An angel without sin. If that was true then Bucky would be seen as fucking divine as Jesus Christ himself.

With a deep sigh Bucky slowly got down onto his knees one hand moving to place on the smooth stone the other setting flowers gingerly in front of the sad memorial. He couldn’t even think of anything to say. Couldn’t even muster up a single tear as he sat in front of that hunk of rock. The man under the soil didn’t deserve Bucky’s sorrow. After a moment or two of false grieving bucky allowed himself to stand, dusting off his knees and looking with an upturned nose at the name engraved in the stone, then back at the bundle of plush roses. He couldn’t help but feel sick, in his mind it was as if Steve had personally delivered the flowers to the man that ruined them.

Spitting next to the grave he kicked at the dirt a few times before reluctantly pulling himself away from the stone hands deep in his pockets.

He walked aimlessly down familiar streets, with a deep frown on his face that didn’t let up until he crossed the threshold of his childhood home. Taking his hat off he set it on the hall table before tentatively walking down the small passageway.

“Ma? I’m home.”

He called out as he peaked his head around the corner that lead into the sitting room. Suddenly a solid mass slammed against his legs causing a soft breath of air to leave him as he steadied himself.

“Bucky!”

A high voice practically squealed out  with surprise and with a shaky laugh he knelt down to ruffle deep brown curls

“Becca what’ve I told you about doing that?”

He asked his hand resting on her head.

“That one day I’m gonna make you fall on your ass!”

Bucky sat back onto the floor and laughed before it cut off by the sharp exclaim of his mother.

“Rebbeca!”

Bucky beamed at his mother, a short, plump Sicilian woman with graying hair and a sharp look. Slowly he stood, picking Rebecca up as he did, walking over to Winifred an arm open for her.

“Ma.”

He breathed out the short word as she wrapped her arm around him and he leaned down so that her lips could reach his cheek. He returned the gesture before pulling away from the embrace with a content smile at the familiar scent of lavender.

“How come I never get a kiss on the cheek?”

Rebecca whined kicking her legs with a pout on her lips.

“Cause you never ask.”

He pinched her cheek before setting her down and shooing her off, gaining a rather betrayed look from the eight year old. Turning his attention slowly back onto his mother he smiled something sweet and adoring at the woman before talking. It was as if he had a million things to say but only one word came out.  

“Ma.”

Again the word came out soft and breathy, like it was unbelievable that he was actually saying it. It was rusty from disuse and didn’t seem to fit right in his mouth but there was still some familiarity to it.  

“Has staying with your uncle made you stupid?”

He barked out a laugh as she shook her head a smile pulling at the side of her mouth. There she was looking happier than ever, because he was finally home.

Winifred was the most torn up about Bucky being sent away, she had no say in the matter and that crushed her. Even though Bucky’s father had explained everything to her she still cared about his well being.

He knew she thought of him as an anchor and had somehow blamed the whole incident on herself. Of course that’s what his father thought too. That Bucky spending so much time with his mother had somehow made him a fairy and the only way to set him right was to send him off to a house constantly filled with men. What could go wrong right?

Though it was different circumstances, his uncle Finocchi, a stern looking man with a warm laugh, was not tolerable of Bucky’s “illness”. Of course it’s not like the man knew about Bucky himself, but he knew the man’s opinion on the subject. It’s not like anyone in the family knew, and god forbid. his father would’ve been cast away like a stray dog. So he made up a not so fantastical story about how Bucky wanted to finally join the family business, finally become a man. At that point Bucky wasn’t sure what that actually entailed all he knew is he was pissed.

The two years following being dropped off and left at a practical stranger’s house were filled with so much bloodshed, secrets, and death, that Bucky couldn’t help but be consumed by it. He knew it wouldn’t change him or how he felt, but he didn’t know how it would actually impact him.

Bucky always had a sharp eye, and this of course was something his uncle could use. The man called on him one night and sat him down and explained everything very carefully. It had been the first time he heard the words “la cosa nostra”. Our thing. Sicilian mafia.  

In those two years since Bucky had decided to join on, there was a process involved that left his hands stained with deep crimson to this day. He moved his way up the ladder with a surprising speed all under the watchful eye of his uncle, whom he’d soon learn was actually his boss. He felt a swell of pride whenever his uncle had given him praise. It was invigorating and Bucky hated it, but he didn’t, he lived for it. Getting so swept up in it he had stopped thinking about Steve for a while. Only know does he realize this was his father’s plan all along, though as soon as he he saw those baby blues he was again absolutely smitten.

After a quick dinner he sat down with Winifred holding her hands tight as he talked about seeing Steve and how he was going to visit him and Sarah tomorrow. Again there was that look of worry, the same look that took over Steve’s face at the mention of his mother. With his mother’s keen sense she immediately began to explain.

“Oh passerotto, Sarah is very, very sick.”

She patted Bucky’s hands gently as she spoke softly her thick accent ringing in his ears. Body going cold he sat there for a moment just processing.

“But she’ll be alright?”

Winifred’s lips purse into a tight line and her deep brown eyes cast down.

“Honestly it’s hard to say..at this point it could get better or it could get worse we’re not so sure.”

“What’s she got? The flu?”

A shake of her head has Bucky reaching for the worst case.

“It’s tuberculosis.”

Her eyes looks so full of sadness as she says the words patting Bucky’s cheek. It was amazing how a few hours ago he was practically buzzing with excitement to see Steve and now he nearly dreaded it.

“Shit, ma, Steve’s been around Sarah hasn’t he?”

Quickly getting out of his seat and tearing away from his mother he ran for the door slipping on his shoes and sprinting out of the small house.

-

Frantically knocking at Steve’s window, he checks the watch on his wrist and let’s out a curse. Stepping back and thinking it through a few times over in his head he moves to slowly begin opening the window before it’s thrown open, a burst of yelling and the cameo of a baseball bat has Bucky nearly falling off the fire escape before he can grab for the wood.

“Steve! Steve! Jeez stop yellin’,shut up it’s me!”

Yanking the bat of Steve’s hand he stops moving to let Steve have a good look at him. The blond actually begins to laugh, running his fingers through his hair.

“God Buck you scared me.”

He leans against the window sill actually holding his hand over his heart and immediately Bucky’s a puddle of worry and faint adoration, okay maybe not faint.

“Are you alright?”

Bucky places the bat off to the side before turning all of his attention back to Steve.

“You didn’t come here to mother hen me did you?”

Of course he did, that’s all he ever did when it pertained to Steve, like yeah he knew it was important not to coddle him at times but checking in on him not dying was also important.

“Yeah I did actually. You need to leave Steve.”

Steve laughs again but it soon fades and he’s just sitting there now with an angry glower.

“You wake me up in the middle of the night after not seeing me for _two years_ and tell me to leave my home while my mother is sick?”

Sometime Steve’s bluntness hit Bucky like a wall.

“Yes?”

Steve crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow giving an unimpressed look.

“Really?”

Bucky groaned and put his hands on Steve’s shoulders shaking him lightly.

“You’re mom’s really sick and you could get really sick too. Not winter pneumonia sick either Steve like, you’ll actually die.”

There was a stinging sensation at the outside of his arms as the blond swatted his hands off and he pulled back with a frustrated breath.

“Buck I can’t just leave her alone.”

“I know that but-”

“No, I’m not leaving.”

Bucky wanted to scream, this wonderfully stubborn kid was so unbelievably irritating in the best way. There weren’t many men who would tell Bucky no, but god the word fit so well in Steve’s mouth that he would let it slide just this once, or for the rest of his life. He would let Steve say no everyday to him, just to hear the word.

Relaxing his tense shoulders he holds his hands up in defeat.

“You are sometimes unbearable Steve.”

Steve mouth open and closed in disbelief, and Bucky could feel the anger slowly easing out of the situation.

“I want to help.”

Bucky said before Steve could even muster up a response to the prior words, his eyes narrowed and he almost seemed to recoil away from Bucky.

“How?”

Bucky pursed his lips and shifted his weight, the metal creaking underneath him.

“I have money, I could help with the apartment or maybe even help pay for some of the medical stuff.”

By some he meant he’d pay for all of it, no matter the cost, just so he wouldn’t have to see Steve go through such a terrible experience, knowing full well that it wasn’t going to be a quick and painless one. Let alone if he could actually help Sarah and help her at least feel some sense of ease.

“Whaddya say?”

“No.”

The sound of the widow being viciously shut was the signal that the conversation was over with. He turned on his heel and stood there a moment in thought.

“Don’t forget you’re coming to dinner tomorrow.”

The voice made him jump and he gave a quick nod before before he could verbally respond the heavy window was shut again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Passerotto-Sparrow, A term of endearment.  
> Finocchi (finocchio)-a fennel, or a homophobic slur.


	3. art :^)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HAVE SOME ART BECAUSE IVE BEEN BUSY

[A real quick doodle of the boys ](https://www.paigeeworld.com/post/57d4f4218915d2410e066050/-otherpw-drawing-by-simplifiedbaby)

((I'm so sorry I haven't posted a new chapter lmao I've been super busy with school and life in general, I hope this will suffice until the next chapter :'^) 


	4. I guess I'll Have To Dream The Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Wipes sweat from my brow-   
> Wow I am SO sorry this update took me so long, there's been a lot going on !!  
> The plot thickens :^)

It was a bad night, the sound of wet hacking cut through Steve’s dreaming mind jolting him from sleep. In a daze he threw the thin blankets off  in a panicked hurry, getting tangled up in fabric and falling off the bed gracefully with a thud as an outcome. Dusting himself off he pushed himself up and padded quickly across the cold floorboards, the wood groaning even under his slight weight.

He did everything in his power not to burst through the door of Sarah’s bedroom not wanting to frighten her. Though of course in the flurry of movements he ended up flinging the door open,  and in recoil the doorknob slammed against the wall, banging against the thin panel.

“Oh Steven..”

She tried to speak through coughs, a handkerchief held up with a gentle grace to her mouth.

“Do be quiet..it’s late.”

Of course it is so like Sarah to chide him about waking the neighbors during a while virtually breathless. Giving a little click of his tongue at the scolding he moved to her side to gently help sit her up. Her hands shooing him away, he had to get his stubbornness from somewhere.  

“Ma I’m not all that concerned about the neighbors right now.”

His mother tutted and shook her head opening her mouth to scold him again on something like his manners but her shoulders shook as another wave of body racking coughs moved through her.

“Ma..”

His voice cracked and hands hovered knowing his mother would deny him if he were to try and and help.

When the fit began to ease up, Steve sat at the edge of her bed rubbing small circles into her back, the sound of her wheezing making him nervous.

“Ma wanna get some fresh air?”

He offered but before she could give a response Steve was already guiding Sarah off of the bed and to her regular seat by the window. Sitting her down he laid a couple blankets over her lap before pushing open the heavy window. Her breath seemed heavy but was definitely better than before. She gave a few small coughs into her handkerchief just to clear her throat before giving a weak smile. Her hand reached out to Steve, the rays of pale moonlight washing out her already sickly skin making her look almost ghost like.

He can see the sickness in her face now when he looks at her, in her glassy sunken eyes and cracked lips. It’s eating away at her at an alarming rate, devouring all essence of the strong, sturdy, woman that once was, leaving nothing but a fragile broken shell.

Steve pressed his cheek against the thin fingers, eyes closing as he kneeled in front of Sarah. His mother was his anchor, keeping him from floating off in a storm. The roles felt reversed but the comfort was all the same, his mother was fading and fading fast, yet she still urged Steve to seek her strength. Letting him know he was safe.

 **_“_ ** _A leanbh_ .. **_”_ **

Her voice broke the silence with a hoarse, quiet tone, Steve’s eyes fluttered open and he looked up at her, her slight smile still present. A sob bubbled up and came out in a choked hiccup as tears began to swell. He pressed his face into the blankets laid across Sarah’s lap, his throat bobbing as he cried.

Her hand soothed over Steve’s head, fingertips pushing through the blond locks as she cooed and hummed.

“There there..sweetie..”

Taking his head into her hands she guided it up, he looked at her and she swiped her thumbs under his eyes.

“I don’t need both of us breathless..”

She laughed and so did Steve, but the sound came out tight and strained and though he wanted nothing but to be close to his mother, he also needed to be strong, like she was for him. So he pulled back, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles and getting out a shaky breath before giving a firm nod putting on a brave face. And it was though Sarah lit up, her smile widened and the edge of her eyes crinkled as he stood.

“Ah there’s my brave boy.”

Steve smiled too, sniffing and shaking his head sheepishly.

“Dear I would like to go back to bed now, we are having company tomorrow..”

“Of course.”

-

After putting Sarah to bed and checking in on her a few times, Steve eventually just decides to stay on the couch for the night, it being closer to his mother’s room in case she needs him.

As he lays back on the lumpy cushions staring up at the ceiling, looking for images in the cracks and stains, his mind wanders to Bucky. It always wanders to Bucky.

He covers  his face with his hands, fingertips cold on his warming cheeks. His face flushing from equal parts embarrassment and anger. Who the hell does Bucky think he is? Telling him what to do after leaving him like that. The absolute gall!

He laid there just fuming kicking around on the couch and grabbing his hair, trying to keep his frustration under wraps. It was late and he was tired, not to mention the pure stress of his life dawning on him despite his efforts to keep the negative thoughts out. Now his mind was just reeling. Think about how he was going to keep up with medical bills (for both him and his ma), paying rent, buying food, taking care of his mother, constantly getting fired from jobs and now the sudden reemergence of James Buchanan Barnes.These problems weighed down heavy on his weak shoulders. He felt like he had all right to throw just a bit of a temper tantrum.

Finally getting a grip on himself he deflated against the cushions with a deep sigh, shifting to lay on his side, staring out the window at the fading night sky.  And though it was going to be morning soon and there  was really no reason to try and sleep at this point, that didn’t stop him from just laying there staring out the dingy window as the dawn slowly crept in, letting his eyelids go heavy.

-

It’s a weird feeling, he doesn’t quite remember waking up and yet here he is under the warm spray of water running fingers through his hair, all sensations feeling strangely amplified. Suddenly there are another pair of hands in his hair, running through and scratching gently at his scalp. Steve goes to let out a noise but nothing comes out, and he doesn’t care.

He’s turning slowly now, the skin on skin contact making him gasp, the only sound though is the water running. He doesn’t need to look up to see who it is, there’s an arm wrapping around his waist and a hand on his cheek that he’s falling into as if under a spell. A mouth is on his neck and it’s wet and filthy, sucking marks here and there. Fingers are grabbing and wandering and it’s so good. Pupils are blown and lips are fighting for dominance and he might be pushed up against the wall, the details are becoming faded and blurry. He’s pulling at hair, his legs are up something is pressing against him-

His eyes open quickly and his breath is heaving as he sits up slowly looking around the room that is now bathed in the first rays of morning. Steve’s tongue is thick in his mouth and his throat is drier than it’s ever been.

Running fingers frantically through his hair as he let out a silent groan and flopped back onto the couch. He stared at the ceiling blinking a few times before rubbing his eyes. He doesn’t have the strength for this.

Sitting up with a sigh he checks the time, his hair raising and blood freezing. His shift started an hour ago, he was supposed to open the shop.

“Shit, shit, shit..”

He whispered angrily under his breath, running to his room and quickly getting undressed.  Stopping in front of  his closet and flinging it open he grabbed a shirt and pair of pants, pulling them on hastily.

Steve made his way out into the living room pulling on his sock nearly falling on his ass. Buttoning up his shirt he carefully pushed opened the door to Sarah’s room, checking in on her. She slept peacefully her chest rising and falling with ease, he let out a relieved sigh and ducked out of the room closing the door quietly behind him. Jogging over to the door he pulled on his shoes and jacket, feeling the pockets for his asthma cigarettes pulling one and quickly lighting it as he looked back to his mother’s room.

He always hated leaving her, death had a strong grip around her and he wanted to be there to shield her from it. Turning on the heel of his foot he opened the door and jogged down the stairs waving to his neighbor Mrs. Kennedy.

“Good morning dear, I see you slept in!”

“Yeah, do you think you could check in on my ma a few times throughout the day?”

Mrs. Kennedy was an old frail lady with wispy gray hairs, she had many children but they were all grown now she once told Steve with wet eyes. Her caring nature made her rather inclined to watch Sarah while Steve was out.

“Oh of course! Of course you better get going!”

He threw a quick thank you over his shoulder and jogged down the pavement taking a quick drag from his cigarette. The strange mix of different nightshades alleviating his shallow breaths for now.

It took him a long while to get there, the commute taking him 40 minutes max. He burst through the door, looking rather amess. His hair unkempt and sticking up in awkward angles and the buttons of his shirt either left undone or in the wrong holes his breath heaving and wheezy.

His boss stood on the other side of the cash register with a pointed look in Steve’s direction. Steve could only shrink under the other’s eyes and the man let out a heavy sigh removing his spectacles, cleaning them with his apron, his head shaking.

“Steven..”

He started and placed the thin rimmed glasses back on the bridge of his nose sighing again as he ran his hand through his thinning hair.

“Look I..I can explain.”

Steve could feel his heart dropping like lead to his feet, he was going to get fired again.

“I gave you this job because you’re Sarah’s child but I can’t tolerate this sort of behavior.”

If he could give any sort of response it’s be a curse, or maybe he would cry, who knows. He felt like he was stuck in time and his body stood there frozen in place. His boss kept speaking, but Steve didn’t listen, he didn’t need to, he’d heard it a million times before. “Sorry, but, we’re looking for someone more capable.” .

It really hurt because Steve really was a hard worker, he just wasn’t “capable”. Frail and sick, and though work was supposed to be his first priority, it never was. With his own list of ailments he often spent more time at home than not.

“I’m sorry Steven..you’ll still get your months pay.”

Steve let out a shaky breath and stood up as straight as his spine would let him. He wanted to keep some of his pride, and with a tight lipped smile he nodded understandingly.

“Thank you sir for your time.”  

With that he retreated back out the door turning and walking back in the direction he came from. His feet scuffing on the pavement, hands deep in his pockets. The thought of telling Sarah broke his heart. She would give him that look, saying it’s okay, even though they both knew it wasn’t. She would run weak fingers through his hair, comforting him. He heaved out a sigh, lost deep in thought, scenarios playing over in his head of his mother telling him she was disappointed, although she would never say that to him. The space between his eyebrows creased and he gulped, he won’t cry. But he couldn’t help the tears swelling up in his eyes and blurring his already terrible vision. He kicked a rock across the sidewalk and pursed a shaky lip, why did this have to happen now?

Before he knew it he was in front of the stairs that led to his apartment, the steps looking much higher than they had ever looked before. With feet as heavy as lead, he began a very slow ascent.  At the top of the stairs he looked at the worn out door, and with a heavy breath he finally worked up the courage to open the door.

On the other side, the sound of chattering, laughter and music hit him first. The second was the smell of something delicious and the scent of a heavy cologne.

“Ma?”

His mother came out of the kitchen to meet him but his eyes snap to the person standing next to her.

“Bucky?”

His breath actually caught, there stood his friend looking like he just walked out of a movie. His hair was gelled back but still looked unbelievably soft, his shirt was clean and well fitting. Steve didn’t dare let his eyes look that frame up and down.  

“Steve we didn’t think you’d be back until later.”

Sarah’s voice drew him out of his daydream, looking almost uneasy as her eyes flitted from her son to Bucky. Suddenly all the dread flowed back into him, he was going to have to tell both his mom and the man he was in love that he’d just lost his job.

With sagging shoulders and an internal groan he looked at the two of them.

“Well..you see the reason..is because..”

He rubbed the back of his neck an embarrassed blush blooming on his cheeks spreading heat across his face to his ears and down his chest. He ignored the flick of Bucky’s tongue against those sinful lips.

“Mr. Cassidy let me go..”

Sarah’s features softened and Bucky, well, he did nothing, this was a normal occurrence and they all knew it.

“Oh sweetie..”

His mother’s arms opened as she stepped closer to him, he was almost reluctant to move into her embrace. Not wanting the affection and comfort, his mother didn’t deserve this. Though before he knew it, he was already being held by her.

“It’s okay, Mr. Cassidy is an idiot, always has been.”  

A loud snort of laughter came from Bucky and he covered his mouth to stifle it as they both looked at him, a smile spreading onto Steve’s face. Sarah seemed to notice and pulled back cupping Steve’s cheeks, pressing a kiss to his forehead before drawing back.

“Don’t be so blue, we have a guest remember.”

She looked quickly to Bucky before turning her attention back to Steve. He gave a little nod, knowing his mother had been excited to see Bucky again, hell they both were. After he composed himself his attention turned to the brunet.

“I thought I invited you to dinner jerk.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, stepping next to Sarah and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“As if I was going to miss out on some alone time with this beautiful woman, I mean come on Steve.”

His mother giggled into her hand her other hand lightly hitting Bucky’s chest as he gave her a smile. That smile lit up his whole world and he hated it,  there was no way he could actually stay mad at Bucky, which made him mad at Bucky, it was a vicious cycle.

“I was just telling James about when you were a baby. You were so well behaved, barely ever cried, and you had the cutest little butt I ever did see!”

The color of his whole body turned several darker shades of red as he glared at Bucky, who was again trying to stifle a laugh, his face turning red a small choking sound leaving him.

“Maaa..”

He whined his body deflating, feeling absolutely humiliated.

“What? I made that butt I’m allowed to be proud of my handiwork.”

Steve’s face was now in his hands, trying his damnedest to hide his embarrassment.

-

They spent the day in the kitchen listening to Billie Holiday, cooking and reminiscing. It was nice, it was comfortable. Bucky smiled and Steve laughed and everything was good.

Around six they all gathered around the table to eat a delicious pot roast that Bucky and Sarah prepared. Dinner was filled with stolen glances and casual talk between Bucky and Steve, their dynamic was a bit rusty.

“Bucky brought me all the ingredients, wasn’t that so sweet of him?”

Steve looked across the table at Bucky over the rim of his cup suspiciously, but hummed in agreement not to upset his mother.

“Yeah ma that was. Real sweet of him.”

Bucky practically shrank under Steve’s hard gaze. Bucky was different now, he oozed charisma and charm, he always did, but this felt more put on, he seemed like he was being careful. This wasn’t the same Bucky that would sit up late at night under a fort of sheets and cushions and read science fiction novels out loud to Steve.

This Bucky was sneaky and had secrets, Steve knew this, but he wasn’t so sure he wanted to find out about those secrets, or if Bucky would even let him.

His mother’s coughing tore his attention from Bucky and dread washed over him.

“Ma are you alright?”

She waved a dismissive hand as her coughing began to cease.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.”

This didn’t sway Steve and he could feel how tense Bucky was from his spot on the opposite side of the table.

“I think I need to lay down if that’s alright with you?”

Steve and Bucky nodded quickly.

“Of course ma..of course..”

Slowly she stood and so did Steve but he was given a sharp look from the woman and sat back in his seat quickly. He watched her go, with an air of grace and confidence, he listened to the sound of her door closing.

“She’s getting pretty bad?”

Steve looked to Bucky and looked at the table giving a slight nod.

“Yeah..”

He breathed out before standing from his seat.

“I’m going to clean up, you’re welcome to stay, I can make you some coffee?”

Bucky only nodded, Steve’s voice was weak, he would never admit it but the other’s presence there was comforting, it wasn’t just his Ma, it was him leaning on stronger shoulders. Bucky was strength for both Steve and Sarah.

-

The table was clean and the lights were out as they stood out on the fire escape, smoke curling up into the air.

“I want to help Steve.”

He brought the cigarette up to his lips and took a drag, the ember on the end lighting up. Steve sat on the other side of the escape, sketchbook in hand, he’d like to say it had been so long since he last drew Bucky, but that would be a lie.

There were endless pages of him. Steve could never stop drawing Bucky, whether it was drawings in full or just a random eye or a familiar pair of lips. But it was the first time he had drawn Bucky like this.

He was so open all the time, but there was something between them now, Bucky was putting up a wall and Steve wanted so badly to tear it down.

“And how do you plan on doing that?”

He didn’t look up from the page, but he had stopped drawing.

“I have money Steve, I can get her the help she needs, I can get you your medicine, get you food-”

“I don’t need you dirty money Bucky.”

Steve snapped, his eyes were full of fire and rage and Bucky just looked so sad.

“I don’t know what you do, but I know it’s no good Buck. No one has that type of money these days unless they’re up to no good.”

Bucky’s jaw locked and he shook his head, he had no words because Steve had been right. An Idea struck him and Steve could see the gears turning in those steely blue eyes.

“How..how about I pay you? It’ll be like you’re doing a service for me?”

But I wouldn’t be Buck, you’d just be giving me the money.”

Steve flipped to a new page and let out a frustrated sigh his pencil scratching against the paper.

“You could do stuff for me, like draw and I dunno, just keep me company?”

Steve raised an eyebrow and looked to the brunet, he was desperate. With a deep breath he weighed his options, wait til he got another job that probably won’t stick and starve and watch his mother die right before him. Or take Bucky’s offer, which was the more appealing of the options.

“I won’t be accidentally selling myself into the mafia or something?”

Bucky’s face turned into something close to shock.

“God no, Stevie of course not.”

“Alright..alright...fine, but I plan on actually doing work Bucky, I’m not just going to take hand outs.”

He turned back to his drawing, chewing at the inside of his cheek feeling Bucky’s eyes on him. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work on here and to be honest I'm a bit of a shit writer, it's more for my own satisfaction, but hey if you also seem to enjoy this atrocious cliche shitstorm then, neato!


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